Anonymous Story: As My Head Hit the Bathtub

Reflection “Date Raped, 2003: How I lost my virginity”
Let’s be honest, the first sexual experience I had was terribly flawed; it was forced.
The person, who took it, was the person who was pouring tequila down my throat the entire night!

Shots, shots,beer bong..shots and more shots.
I was 17, quiet; I wanted to fit in. So I took those shots.
After I remember feeling drunk, then he whispered in my ear:
“Ask to go to the bathroom and I’ll show you where it is”
I thought in my head, “How does he know I have to pee? How sweet.”
I stated: “Hey I gotta pee, where is the bathroom?”
“Its upstairs, I’ll show you”
We proceeded upstairs, hand in hand. I was still not aware of what he had planned.
We entered the bathroom, he took off his pants, sat on the toilet, pointed at his cock and said,
“You know what to do.”
I really didn’t.
“Sit on it!” I tired.
Then it really hit me, how intoxicated I had become.
“I can’t really…” I said as I slumped down next to the tub, “I’m feeling dizzy,”

“WHAT!? are you serious?! All this for nothing,” he stood up, pushed my shoulders back; I remember my head hitting the tub. >THUNK<
We are both pantless at this time, I was not feeling in control of my body anymore, I couldn’t even form words.

After the pain of the entry of his cock, my hymen splitting, I just remember him saying.
“WHAT THE FUCK,” at the sight of blood. “Is it your time of the week, I mean month? Ugh, gross”
“No, this is my first time.”
“WHAT!? Chris said you guys were all drunken sluts!”

He threw my pants at my while I was still slumped up against the tub, drunk, half naked.

“Shit, I should probably get back to the party, someone might think we fucked or something,” he said standing in the doorway with a look of disgust on his face.
“I’ll go down stairs first, you’ve got a mess to clean up”

After I had gathered myself in my drunken stupor, I eventually found my way down back to the basement.
“WHERE WERE YOU? We are leaving,” my friends quickly grabbed my hand.
“Wait, I want to give him my number real quick,” I said softly.
I went over to him, he was sitting on an armchair with another girl on his lap already.
“Here, I wrote my number down for you,”
He looked at me and laughed. He didn’t take my number.
“Ok, what for? Do you think I like you or something? You’re just some drunk bitch at a party, I don’t even know your name, just leave!”

He was my friend’s older brother. I still remember the way his tshirt smelled like it had been left in the washer too long before he dried it, which is probably why that smell makes the back of my head hurt.